


Chamomile Tea

by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, I blame this on Siren and too many Criminal Minds episodes, I'm Sorry Kunimi, it's his turn ok, serial killer au, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead/pseuds/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead
Summary: Akira makes a trip to the store and is never seen again.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Sirens_Lullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Sirens_Lullaby/gifts).



> You have to crush some chamomile leaves to make tea, after all.

“Excuse me. Do you need any help?” Akira blinked at the cheerful man offering to take some of his grocery bags. Akira narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The man’s freckled cheeks and wide grin gave him a childlike look, but Akira didn’t know him, so he wasn’t sure he wanted this person near him or the groceries he had just purchased. “Seriously, you’re bound to drop something,” the stranger insisted, reaching for Akira’s bags. “Let me take a few.” Akira furrowed his brow, but reluctantly let the man take a few of the bags. He had ended up with more than he really wanted to carry, anyway. Yuutarou was supposed to come with him, but he’d ended up called into work, leaving Akira with the shopping list. The stranger held the bags he’d taken easily - Akira hadn’t thought he was that strong, but he didn’t seem bothered by the weight of the groceries - and gave Akira another grin. “So, which car is yours?” Akira led the way to his car, and set his bags down. 

“Thank you,” Akira murmured. “Leave them there; I’ll load up.” The stranger hesitated. 

“Are you sure? I could help…”

“You’ve helped plenty. I’ve got it,” Akira assured him.” The stranger pouted a little - Akira braced himself for the man to ask for his number or something as payment for helping carry his things - but then he sighed and set the bags down. 

“If that’s what you want. I’ll keep an eye out for you when I’m here,” the stranger said. “You seem like you end up with more than you want to deal with a lot.”

“That’s true enough,” Akira mused, since it was. He didn’t really want to deal with anything, so any time Yuutarou got him to actually do anything, it was more than he wanted to deal with. He found himself smiling slightly as the stranger turned away. He shook his head, then opened the trunk and started loading the bags.

* * *

 

Akira brought the first load of groceries into the house, set them on the counter, and closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh scent of the flowers Yuutarou had planted outside the kitchen window. Akira loved those flowers; they always smelled peaceful and happy. He stood there for a moment, breathing in the pace and stillness. Then he frowned, because he shouldn’t be able to smell those flowers, because he’d left the window closed and locked, just like always. He opened his eyes, and saw that the window wasn’t shut like it should be. His brow furrowed, and he went to the counter. As he reached up toward the window, leaning over the counter, he heard a noise behind him, and he froze, straining to listen for another noise. 

Silence greeted him, and he started to relax. Just as he slid the window down and flipped the latch to lock it, he heard another noise. Before he could whirl to see where it came from, something clamped down around his neck. Akira tried to shout, but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs to make a sound above a low whine. He tried to squirm, to lash out, but the pressure on his neck increased, and something wrapped around his waist, holding his body against something warm and firm - another person, someone who’d gotten into his house, someone who was  _ choking him oh god he was going to die _ \- so he reached up to claw at the hand around his throat even as his vision swam from lack of oxygen. Someone swore as his nails dug into skin, drawing blood, and Akira felt a rush of satisfaction. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going down easy. 

Another pair of hands seized his wrists and pulled them away from his attacker’s hand on his throat. Akira wanted to scream in frustration - this wasn’t  _ fair, _ there was more than one person, and they were  _ helping _ whoever had grabbed him - but instead, he felt his body growing sluggish. 

“He might be lazy, but he sure puts up a fight,” someone growled, their voice hot on his ear. 

“That just means he’ll be fun once we get him out to the hunting grounds,” a second voice replied. “So no complaining. Once he’s out, you haul him to the van and I’ll make sure you didn’t get blood anywhere. What were you thinking, letting him scratch you like that?”

“Well if you’d been ready when you were supposed to be and gotten his hands faster…”

“Quit complaining. Look, there he goes.”

It was the last thing Akira heard as his mind went dark, sliding into the safety of unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Akira woke to more darkness, but that could have been because of the blindfold he could feel wrapped around his head. He groaned, but the sound was muffled. From the discomfort in his jaw and lips, he assumed he’d been gagged, too. His throat was raw, his ragged breathing around the gag combining with the soreness from being choked and leaving him trying desperately to control his breathing. He tried to move, only to realize his hands were locked behind his back, and if he tried to pull on his bindings, unforgiving metal dug into his skin. He took a second to take inventory of the rest of his body. He didn’t think his ankles were bound, but his legs were folded beneath him, as if he’d been placed in a kneeling position and then allowed to slump forward since he was unconscious. 

He’d been unconscious. Someone had broken into his house, grabbed him, choked him until he passed out, and then he’d woken up chained, blindfolded, gagged, and who knew where he was or who’d taken him.

Akira thrashed, tried to get his feet underneath him, only for his legs to refuse to cooperate. How long had he been there? He had no way of knowing, but it must have been a while since his legs had gone numb. 

“Relax. You’ll have your chance to run soon enough.” Akira screamed around the gag and threw himself against his restraints. He thought he was alone, he thought he’d have a chance to figure something out before they came for him. Akira’s wrists flared with pain as he lunged against the restraints again. Metal that had been biting into his skin already slipped and cut into him. Blood trickled, hot and sticky, down his hands, and he cried out again, the sound muffled by the gag. “Shh, just relax. If you’re good, I’ll let you walk around, get some feeling back in your legs. Okay?” Akira nodded, breath rattling in his throat as he struggled to stay calm and listened as soft footsteps approached, ready to attack as soon as the blindfold was removed. Instead, a gentle touch on his arms just above the metal biting into his wrists made him jump. “Easy, there. Calm down.” Akira couldn’t stop the tremor that ran through his body as he heard a metallic  _ snik, _ like something unclipping. A moment later, he was hauled to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him, his arms still locked behind his back, and the blindfold and gag still in place. “There. I’m going to lead you around a bit now.”

Akira was shaking, his legs tingling painfully as the numbness faded, and when his apparent captor nudged him forward, he stumbled and nearly fell, but his captor held his arm and steadied him. Akira hesitated, and was pushed forward again. This time, he managed to keep his footing and started walking. After a few minutes, he was led back to what he assumed was the same spot. Akira hesitated, considering trying to run, but he had no idea where he was, or even what his surroundings looked like. Before he could make up his mind, pressure on his shoulders and the backs of his knees sent him collapsing to the ground. His knees hit hard, and he cried out, his voice raw and high-pitched. His torso curled forward, and his forehead smacked into the unforgiving cement. Akira tried to bite his lip, but the gag stopped him, and a low whine escaped his tender throat. His captor gripped his hand and lifted it, and a moment later, Akira heard the metallic clip slide back into place. 

“Once the boss gets here, you’ll get your chance to run, don’t worry.” Akira was silent, listening for his captor’s retreating footsteps. Instead, he heard a rustle of fabric, and then he felt his captor’s fingers in his hair. They gripped his hair and wrenched his head up and back, straining his bruised neck. Akira flinched and started to try to pull away, but then something cold and sharp pressed against his throat, and he went completely still. 

“Isumi, I thought I told you not to touch him until I arrived.” Akira tried to pinpoint where the new voice was coming from, but he couldn’t, because the knife at his throat was a little distracting. 

“But you’re here now, boss, so-”

“Isumi. Let go of him or I’ll ban you from today’s hunt.” Akira’s captor hissed in displeasure and released his hair, letting Akira slump forward again until he could rest his forehead on the ground once more. “Good. I won’t ban you, but you’re still going to be punished. You’re on ambush duty today. Go tell Shigeru and Kentarou that we’re ready.” 

“Yes, boss.” This time, Akira did hear his captor’s footsteps recede. Before he could relax, however, he heard someone else approach, and another rustle as Akira assumed the second person crouched beside him. The blindfold was tugged off, but Akira kept his head down. He didn’t want the last thing he saw to be some deranged kidnapper. He didn’t have much of a choice, though, because a firm grip on his chin forced his head up. Akira twisted, trying not to look at whoever was touching him, but then their other hand unfastened the gag and eased it out of his mouth. Akira couldn’t help himself. As he worked his jaw and in an attempt to relieve the ache from the gag, he glanced at the person who’d taken it out. 

The boss, as the first captor had called him, appeared to be a wiry, snakelike man with brown hair and cold, calculating eyes. The smirk that twisted his lips completed his aura of complete, arrogant control. 

“Hello, there,” the man greeted him. Akira tried to look away, but the man caught his jaw in one hand, forcing Akira to face him. Akira closed his eyes, refusing to meet the boss’s gaze. “You’re stubborn. That’s good. It’ll help you last longer, maybe even let us play with you for more than one night. That would be fun.” There was a sinister amusement in the man’s voice that sent a shudder crawling down Akira’s spine. 

“Yuutarou will know I’m gone. He’ll be looking for me. You won’t get away with this,” Akira rasped, his voice rough and raw. He tried to make his expression fierce and defiant, but he was pretty sure he just sounded desperate. 

“Yuutarou? Oh, your half brother, the one you live with?” Akira tensed. What did this monster know about Yuutarou? “He’s already reported you missing. It’s all over the news. Local college darling vanishes from his house in the middle of the day, and his devoted and very nervous half brother is offering a reward to find him. It’s all very touching. I watched the news broadcast before I came over to see if you were as pretty in person as the nice photo your brother has to show people who they’re looking for.” Akira glared, and the boss smiled and kissed his forehead. “You definitely lived up to my hopes.” Akira retched; the feeling of that man’s lips on his forehead was soft and gentle and  _ revolting, _ a mockery of a kind, reassuring gesture. “Now, the others should be ready by now. So let’s get you ready. Hold still now, Akira.” The boss’s lips curled around his name, and the sharp, possessive way he said it made Akira want to retch again. Before he could react, though, the boss’s hand shifted from his chin down to his throat and squeezed. Akira squirmed, but the restraints restricted his movements too much for his struggles to be any more effective this time than they had when he’d been ambushed in his kitchen. 

Akira’s body went limp despite his attempts to resist, and the last thing he saw was the boss’s smirk growing as he slumped forward.

* * *

 

Akira woke again in the middle of nowhere. He was in an open meadow bordered by trees, his throat hurt, and he had no way of communicating with anyone. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t bound anymore, and the gag and blindfold hadn’t returned. Akira heard voices - shit, those were the ones who’d attacked him in his home, and the boss - coming from one end of the meadow and scrambled to his feet. He glanced around wildly, looking for possible escape routes. 

Through the trees, there was a glimpse of color. An old, faded yellow house, crouched low and defensive against the ground. It looked...normal. Safe. Akira sprinted for it, his legs screaming in protest as he tripped and nearly fell. How long had they kept him chained? He didn’t know, he wouldn’t know until he found someone to help him, to get him back to Yuutarou. Akira lost track of the voices behind him, his focus completely centered on the house as he stumbled through the trees, undergrowth snagging at his jeans, thorns from a bush leaving reddened lines on his hand but not quite drawing blood. 

Akira threw himself up the steps, onto the porch, and fell against the door. He opened his mouth to scream, but the door opened before he could, and he lost his balance. He tumbled through the doorway, off balance, and hit the floor - thankfully not face first this time - and groaned. 

“Welcome home,” a half-familiar voice purred. Akira twisted, stared up at the person who’d opened the door. That voice...it was the captor who’d walked him around, and the face of the person that voice belonged to...Akira had seen him before - at the grocery store. It was the man who’d helped him with his groceries. “I’m Sakishima Isumi, and we’re going to have lots of fun.” Confusion swept over Akira. If this person was one of his captors, why was he telling Akira his name? Why had he helped carry the groceries to Akira’s car? Why was he in the house near...oh. Near where he’d been set free. 

The boss had mentioned a hunt, and ambush duty, and oh, Akira was an idiot. 

“What, he didn’t even try to get up? That’s no fun,” complained someone behind him. Akira twisted to stare over his shoulder and saw three men approaching. 

“Then pick a better target when it’s your turn, Shigeru,” grumbled the only blond of the group, who had two strange black stripes in his hair. 

“I will. Your last one got so injured in the capture that he didn’t even run,” one of the two brunets countered. Neither of them sounded like the boss; they sounded like the two who’d kidnapped Akira. 

“Focus, you two. You can tear into each other all you want once we’ve shown our darling Akira the proper appreciation. Unless you two don’t want in on enjoying him?” The second brunet was the boss. Akira recognized him, recognized his voice, and most of all, Akira recognized that smirk. He tried to get to his feet, to run, only for the one called Sakishima to plant one foot on his shoulder and lean on it until Akira collapsed against the floor. Akira whimpered, flinched at the way the sound scraped against his throat. “Well, Isumi? You picked him; aren’t you going to take him to the playroom?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering, yes he's dead and no I'm not sorry.


End file.
